


Harry Potter and the Crossroads of Conviction

by Kageriah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Character Development, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Introspection, OCs Abound, Poor Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kageriah/pseuds/Kageriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy was a curious boy. Obviously, that meant he questioned things. Like his schoolwork, his parents, and especially his beliefs. He didn't expect his whole life to be turned around, though, when he decided to explore muggle London. </p><p>Know thy enemy, as they say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Muggle Mystery

Chapter 1: The Muggle Mystery

 

Draco Malfoy was not a stupid boy. He was actually quite intelligent, despite all appearances. Intelligent enough to know that disobeying his father would lose him his family and everything he had ever known. Intelligent enough to know that obeying his father and joining the Dark Lord would lose him his dignity and more importantly - maybe not to Draco - his life.

Draco Malfoy was not a caring boy. He never felt compassion for his schoolmates, obviously, and never bothered with petty relationships. Not to say he didn’t want friendship. But the only three people he ever cared about were his mother, father and his potions professor.

So you see that Draco had a difficult decision ahead of him.

However, recently he had been rethinking his “destined” position in life.

You see, one thing draco most definitely could be called was a curious boy. He had an inherent questioning personality, constantly inquiring about anything people told him. Naturally, this meant he had a not so subtle interest in muggles. He had never divulged or indulged this interest as his father would _certainly_ have him drawn and quartered (a practice only done by ancient muggles). But his father wasn’t here right now. No, the man who ruled Draco’s life with an iron fist was in Azkaban, never to return, and he could dictate no longer.

Draco took to the task wholeheartedly and immersed himself in the culture of muggles. After all, as his mother always said, the moment you truly know your enemy is the moment you learn to make or break the person.

The first thing he did was floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London, but instead of entering Diagon Alley, he left through the front entrance and lost himself in muggle London. He wanted to find this “tube” he heard Justin Finch-Fletchley talking about. It sounded like an interesting and fun contraption.

Of course, once he boarded the metal muggle machine (after asking about to figure out where it was in the first place - embarrassingly, right behind him - and struggling to pay the muggle currency required) he realized that the his previous assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. As soon as the doors shut, Draco was overcome with claustrophobia and he almost fell once it started moving. He could almost relate this method of travel to a portkey, but soon it became apparent that this was much more pleasant and he didn’t feel the need to projectile vomit anymore. If it had actually been a portkey, he would have lost his lunch, as he had the previous three times he traveled that way. It surely embarrassed his father to witness such weakness from his son.

This ride on the London underground would definitely be infinitely more humiliating to Lucius Malfoy. And disturbing.

Draco had to admit, though, that he would take this over portkeys or apparition any day. If it were faster.

Soon, the young Malfoy grew impatient and left the tube, determined to make his own way back to the pub that lead to London’s hub of wizarding shopping. He sneered at anything and anyone that impeded his path.

Something caught his eye on his way, though. An interesting place to investigate the muggle world would, after all, be a bookstore.

Pageturner was a quaint little shop, a little worn down in a good, homely way. It was nothing like the cold, drafty, lonely manor, and Draco loved that. Draco immediately decided that he made the right decision in coming here.

The person manning the register nodded at him and he resisted the urge to sneer at the muggle who dared to treat him like a commoner, remembering what his mother said at the beginning of summer.

“Be civil in public, Dragon. Don’t make a scene. That’s one thing your father got wrong, because he didn’t realize that you shouldn’t make enemies before allies.”

For some reason, this struck a chord in him. That’s exactly what he’d done. By insulting Weasley when they met, he had alienated potential allies. It was his own fault, not Potter’s, that he had no true friends. It was his own fault that he felt hollow when he saw the Golden Trio smiling, laughing, or hugging.

So he just nodded at the woman and began to browse the stacks. He stopped once he reached the young adults label, as he was a young adult, and he picked up a random book with an interesting cover.

How interesting it was that they had paper covers that made the books light and floppy. Not to mention they were tiny. He opened to the first page of the story and began to read when someone behind him scared the wits out of him when he addressed Draco.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Draco whirled around, managing to look graceful even when he almost jumped and saw a young, tawny haired man a little older than him writing at a table with a small and weird quill with no ink. Seriously, did they store the ink in the pen? Draco tried not to be too impressed.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

The other man gestured to the young adults section with a grimace. “I wouldn’t read any of those.”

“Why?” Draco inquired, raising an eyebrow in a Malfoyish fashion.

“You’re obviously new to bookstores or frustratingly shallow,” Draco bristled at the accusation, but the other ignored his reaction and continued. “You see, all of those, or at least most, are terrible.”

The other brow went up. “And you would know.”

The woman at the front chose that time to insert herself into the conversation. “You should listen to him. He’s a genius and he’s read every book in this store, even the rubbish ones.

A genius? He was a muggle; he couldn’t be that smart.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m a genius. I just have a really high IQ.”

“180?” she more said than stated, crossing her arms.

Draco frowned. That couldn’t be right. He thought something like 350 people in the world had IQs that high. And weren’t they all wizards? That’s what his father said.

“ _You_ have that high an IQ..?” he asked dubiously.

“Not many people believe me, and you do not have to. I was just advising you not to waste time on such jargon,” said the man, turning back to his sheets of paper.

“Well...” Draco hadn’t expected him to give up the matter so quickly. With lack of anything better to say, he just blurted a rather awkward thank you and put the book back in its place before heading to a different section. Science fiction and fantasy looked interesting.

He once again snatched a random book, _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury. He went to sit in a leather seat, one of six, three on each side of a table - the one the “genius” was working at. He leafed through the pages but soon found himself lost. What was “kerosene”? And he had no idea what a “centrifuge” was.

He was tempted to ask the man, who was scribbling fervently on his papers (What was he working on that was so important? Surely it couldn’t be that great - he was a muggle after all... but why wouldn’t muggles do important things?), but he felt he would just make a fool of himself.

Frustrated, Draco tapped the word he was stuck on now, “TV”, wondering what to do.

Fortunately, the lady at the desk noticed his struggle and waved to get his attention. “Hey, you can find a dictionary under the coffee table.”

Draco, surely enough, found one and set it down, flipping through the thick volume until he found what he was looking for.

The man across from him suddenly sighed, stretching his back and running his hands through his hair.

“Having trouble?” asked the woman at the desk. Draco really should come up with better names for them.

“Nope,” he said. “I am just tired because I have been sitting in this uncomfortable position for so long. If this weren’t so important to me━”

She interrupted, “I know, I know. You would take the time to actually do healthy things like eating and exercising. Yes, I _believe_ you.”

“What...” Draco started. He didn’t know why he was so shy right now. “What are you working on?”

The other man smirked. “Finish your book and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. How dare this filthy - wait. He needed to calm down. He wasn’t here to fight. This was a personal mission and if the other wanted to be a wanker, then so be it. Draco just needed to learn  why these muggles were so disgusting. Most didn’t look dirty or barbaric, as he was told his entire life.

He lowered his eyes to the book and finished reading. It was dark by the time he finished and he only had a little time before he had to leave. Aunt Bella wanted to help with his occlumency in about an hour.

He had to ask quickly then. “Well? What are you working on?”

The other man looked up and shrugged. “Come back next week. Maybe I’ll tell you.”

_What? Of all the - this bastard? He dare -_

Once again, Draco reigned in his temper, masking his emotions as he was taught to.

He stood up, placing the book he finished on the table, glaring, and coldly saying, “Very well.” Then he stalked out of the door, scowling all the way.

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

 

“That was mean,” said the woman behind the desk.

The man at the table leaned back and smiled. “But he’ll come back.”


	2. The Curiosity of the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco begins to doubt.

Chapter 2: The Curiosity of the Cat

 

Draco fumed for the rest of the day and continued throughout the week. He barely managed to hide thoughts of his goings about hidden from Aunt Bella. Luckily, he did have experience occluding his mind, and as a precaution, he forced all thoughts of his upcoming initiation to the forefront of his mind.

However, after his lesson, the topic of the muggle’s composition plagued his mind. Something like this shouldn’t have bothered him, but he was nothing if not curious. If someone posited a question whose answer was unknown to Draco, he would stop at nothing to discover the explanation. It’s why he followed Potter to see what Hagrid was up to in first year - he hadn’t thought of getting them caught until he had no option but to be caught himself. It’s why he discovered his father was the reason for the breach of the Chamber of Secrets and that Pettigrew was responsible for the Potters’ deaths, not Black (he was also a habitual eavesdropper). It’s why he knew what gillyweed was and that Potter could only have gotten it through thievery. It’s why he knew about the room of requirement even before Potter and his cronies discovered it - not that he would tell Umbridge; this was actually the one time he had hoped Potter would succeed, but he had to keep up appearances for his father and his reputation.

He may not have been able to beat Granger, but he was a close second - and that’s why he’d forever be a shame to his father.

It would be an even greater shame if his father realized that Draco’s curiosity urged him to go back to the bookstore. He wanted, first of all, to read more by Bradbury. He also needed to find out what the guy was writing. But most importantly, he needed to understand muggles. It seemed the more knowledge he uncovered, the more engrossed he became. For example, he was very fascinated by television. As he understood it, television was actually like a picture, but it told a story and you couldn’t hold conversations with it. They were like most books that were fleshed out into paintings. Well, wizard paintings. Not exactly. It was more similar to taking events and capturing them in a box to keep and watch over and over - like a pensieve! That’s it!

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco, after a week, proceeded to give up all hope of restraining his inquisitive nature and made his way back to Pageturner at the same time as last week. He once again took the tube and was surprised by how pleasant the trip was.

When he arrived, he pushed the door open cautiously. The same woman was behind the front desk and she smiled and waved at him.

“He’s just over there,” she pointed to the same area between the bookshelves where the lamps and brown leather chairs and the coffee table were.

Draco frowned at the thought that she had predicted his arrival, and not the magical way.

Pushing that thought out of his mind, he stepped over to the man whose tawny head of hair was visible beyond the back of his chair.

The seated man turned when he heard the boy’s footsteps and he greeted the approaching boy.

“Hello again,” he said.

Draco grudgingly greeted him with a nod.

“Sit,” ordered the supposed genius. Draco inwardly cringed at following the order of a muggle, but he sat down across from the man nonetheless.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Draco raised a brow. “You sound sure of yourself. How did you know I would come back?”

The other man chuckled. “You strike me as a curious person. I recognized that in your behavior last week. You came into the store, obviously not familiar with the sorting, and picked up an interesting book - _Fahrenheit 451_ \- and unlike many people I know, you didn’t skip over words you didn’t know. You picked up a dictionary and researched over 50 words. I could tell that you genuinely wanted to know. You had to know what it is you were reading. You look around and you ooze curiosity. I can see it in your eyes. You hunger for knowledge. And so when I told you to wait, you were frustrated. You kept looking at my papers to try and figure it out, not that it would have helped you.

“So I figured you would come back if I told you to wait.”

Draco felt a sinking in his stomach, some sort of premonition, but he ignored it in favor of more questions.

“Why would you want me back here? And why wouldn’t it have done me any good?”

“To answer the latter, it would not help if you could not read kanji, hiragana, and katakana. I am writing my s━document in Japanese. As for the first, I am curious too. You see, I want to learn more about the person who has to research the tele━” he corrected, “Sorry, the television, and a number of other electronic devices that are common knowledge nowadays.”

Draco felt heat rising furiously to his cheeks and snapped back, “Well that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To learn! I wasn’t exactly raised with this sort of mu━technology!”

“I am somewhat baffled that you are ignorant of modern machinery. The advancements have influenced and improved medicine, business, agriculture, transit and many other fields that are prominent in today’s world. It is undeniably hard to miss.”

“Ignorant? I haven’t exactly had the time to study it, what with my research of━” Draco bit his tongue before he broke the Statute of Secrecy. “Anyway, my father━”

Once again, he cut himself off. He was about to say that his father had forced him away from the world of muggles and technology, but he had made it a goal to stop bragging about his father or using his father as an excuse for his own failures anymore. If he wanted respect, he would have to earn it himself, as Nott had snidely pointed out at the end of the spring semester.

“Research of..?” asked the other man.

“Nothing!” he said defensively.

Once again, he was laughed at. “Well you’re obviously trying to learn now, so I’ll give you credit for that. You may need aid with that. I can help you there.”

He held out a hand to shake. Draco was bombarded with the irksome feeling of deja vu.

“I’m Malcolm Hammel. You can call me Mal.”

Draco didn’t think getting advice from a muggle was the best idea, but he kept his mother’s words in mind and decided to build a bridge rather than burn it. He would definitely begin to understand the muggles if he spent time with one.

Making up his mind, he shook the other man’s hand.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he said.

Mal smirked at the woman behind the desk as if sharing a private joke before gesturing to her. “That is Audrey Grey.”

Draco nodded at her. “Pleasure.”

“What, I don’t get a handshake? How rude!” she said, feigning offense.

“You can come over here if you want it that badly.”

 

Silence.

 

“If you want to shake hands, I mean.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mal informed Draco that if he wanted to learn about modern technology, science fiction was not the way to go. He collected a few textbooks - these were heavy and somewhat  
similar to what Draco was used to. He told Draco which sections would be more helpful. When Draco asked questions, he would be there to answer. Audrey added her own snark every now and then.

        Draco completely forgot about the manuscript Mal had been working on until he was about to leave. He had packed the books he purchased (more reference books – one on muggle psychology, one on physics, one on chemistry, one on electricity, and several on the history of multiple countries and continents.) away and had stood, about to bid farewell to Mal, when he remembered.

        He tentatively asked about the topic of the book, but he felt the same drop in his stomach. He knew what Mal was going to say.

Mal smirked. “Come back next week. Maybe I’ll tell you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

And so began a trend. Draco would leave his home at around 3 o’clock and take the tube from The Leaky Cauldron to Pageturner, where he would continue his studies with Mal. He became more and more curious. It seemed that he couldn’t stop himself from learning. He felt - with no small amount of disgust - like Granger. Maybe this was how muggles felt when they were introduced to the magical world. It was like a dream, completely different from everything they were used to, and they couldn’t let go of this strange, mystical world they now grasped. At least, that was how Draco felt.

Draco learned about things from the invention of the train (a muggle!) to the lightbulb to the car to computers and he began to see that muggles had made a world for themselves. What ever they couldn’t do with magic, they compensated with technology.

Then there was Mal. Draco thought he had never met anyone as condescending or sarcastic as the man - besides himself, that is. He and Mal began to talk about things other than just books. They spanned a broad range of topics including family and prejudice.

“My father would be enraged if he found out I was here. He’s a technophobe - that’s why I know next to nothing about it. He always had this idea that I would follow in his footsteps, that I would become a carbon copy of him, and I used to be. But I think technology is incredible. The things mu━humankind has innovated are incredible!” He gestured to the lamps and the lights above them. “We don’t even use those! We use torches and ma - lanterns to light up our rooms. But this seems so much easier!”

           “I would never treat my daughter like that. I imagine that if I ever forced my own beliefs down her throat and didn’t give her the choice to make her decision herself, my ex-wife would kill me. I can’t imagine being restricted to one branch of thought. On the other hand, I am biased because I was raised in an open minded family.”

        “You have a daughter?” Mal’s entire aura seemed to brighten at the mention of his daughter.

        “Yes, I do! She is probably the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen. I’m sure I have a picture of her somewhere…”

        As Mal rummaged through his pockets, Draco thought to himself. His father had never treated him as something precious. He was cold and distant, and Draco lived for the moments when he would squeeze his shoulder or nod in approval. His father wasn’t a terrible parent, but he had never been happy or proud of his son for simply being a part of his life.

        “Ah! Here it is!” he pulled out a picture of a little girl with short black hair and a heart shaped face. She looked a lot like Mal, as he could tell so far. He had the same hair, the same blue eyes and the same heart shaped face. He was right, the girl was beautiful. She would be a heartbreaker when she grew up.

        “She is only six years old. She wants to be an artist; she draws pictures for me all the time and she’s actually not that bad.”

        Draco laughed. “Well you’ll have to show me sometime.”

        Mal’s eyes darkened. “I would, Draco, if I could. But I barely see my daughter as it is. She’s only ever drawn one picture for me because she barely knows me.”

        Draco’s curiosity once more clawed its way to the front of his mind, but he quelled it and simply gave his condolences. He wasn’t good at comforting people because he’d never been in a situation where he had to console a person. He had never been that close to anyone. Sure, he had heard his mother’s regrets when she told his father, and he knew about his father’s regrets when it came to him, but he only knew the little things when it came to his “friends”. He knew Crabbe and Goyle regretted missing lunch, Nott regretted his family’s social stance, which prevented him from becoming a Death Eater – for now, and Pansy regretted not bringing her hair straightening potion to school.

        But this muggle, he had regrets too. He was a person. He regretted things, and he was proud, and he was strong, and he was a genius, and he had a personality, and he was a person… just like him. So he didn’t have magic.

        _What_? But that wasn’t true! Muggles weren’t special, they had no magic!

        So do you hate people who are different? It’s not like they could control what family they were born into! These were people too! They had children and many were innocent. Not all, but many. Sure, they had their fair share of criminals, but what is it to judge an entire people by the actions of but a few?

        Were muggles really so bad after all?


	3. The Inbetween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco thinks for himself

**Chapter 3: The Inbetween**

 

Draco thought it was time to pay a long overdue visit to Diagon Alley. He needed to go to Flourish and Blott’s (?) to purchase some books that would aid his research. He didn’t expect it to be a very lucrative trip, but he definitely found more than he expected. The books he found would help a lot. He bought _Physics and Magick_ by William Chambers, he bought a huge text on psychology – he wanted to compare muggle psychology research to that of wizards – and medical texts as well. He bought multiple books on the possibility of transferring electronic devices to the magical world too; it was now a personal goal of his to get a television.

After reading these books, he discovered a rather large lag in the study of physics in the wizarding world compared to the muggle world. The muggles had many more advancements in the laws of physics, and what he did find in the text had more to do with how magic could affect physics. It’s a shame he couldn’t find more books on physics in Flourish and Blott’s. And he had scoured his father’s library, but it seemed there was nothing but the physics of magic or the physics behind magic or the physics defied by magic, etc.

Unsurprisingly, there were far more medical studies in the magical world than muggle, and they had cured many ailments that the muggles still thought terminal. What Draco wondered was this: if the wizards could cure all of these illnesses, why did they not at least have magical healers in muggle hospitals? Merlin knew there wasn’t exactly a dearth of medical students in the wizarding world.

His father had always told him that the muggles were savages who had “witch trials” where they burned, drowned and/or tortured magical folk. That’s why the statute of secrecy was in place. If that were true, why did Draco find little evidence of this in the modern world? Sure, in less civilized places, it might happen, but like the wizard killings, wizards had muggle baiting and Death Eaters were basically doing what muggles had done to them in the past.

He would have to consult his books - and possibly Mal - about this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Mal?” Draco decided to broach the topic on a relatively peaceful afternoon.

Mal looked up from his book. “Yes?”

“What do you think about...”

Mal put down his book. “Yes?”

Draco shifted in his seat. “I was wondering: what do you think about the right people have to fight their oppressors? Like, when does it go too far? Do you think if a certain group of people were being persecuted by another group, the subjugated group has the right to turn it around and eradicate their oppressors?”

“You keep saying that people have the _right_ to fight. What gives people the right to fight oppressors, in your mind?”

Draco frowned. “I think... definitely if someone is being oppressed, or they were oppressed and didn’t want to experience it again maybe..? And wouldn’t it be better to get rid of the people who were oppressing you rather than have the chance of it happening again?”

“But you see, if they had been oppressed, but were not anymore, what gives them the right? Who determines that right? I think, maybe, if you see your life fall apart around you and you lose your family and friends, then you have the right to fight. On the other hand, if you are living happily and you see oppression, you have the ability to fight, not the right. That does not mean you should not, but in the eyes of some, it might not necessarily be your right. However, if you are living happily and the people around you are living happily, but you decide that the people who subjugated you in the past deserve to be destroyed, you instead become the very thing you fear. You do not have the right to fight a group of people because they did something in the past and it might happen again! Everyone is innocent until proven guilty, in my opinion, so you would just be putting victims, not persecutors, to death,” explained Mal.

Draco pondered that for a moment. “So... say there’s a group of people who had been oppressed by these terrible people; they were burned at the stake, drowned and tortured, but they secluded themselves from those people. They hid their kind away, and eventually, they were forgotten, but they still welcomed people like them into their society, even though they weren’t born of people like them. The pure of blood think that the new ones are disgusting, and they start a campaign to stop the intruders in their society from rising up against them and killing them. Is that not self defense?”

Mal lifted his eyebrows at the explanation, but ignored it for now. “Why exactly are the new ones disgusting?”

“Never mind that for now.”

“Okay... well, did the newcomers do anything to hurt the purebloods?”

“No...” Draco said. “Some may have... but not all.”

“Well there’s your answer. While some may be guilty, not all are and therefore, killing them all would be slaughtering innocents, and the purebloods would turn into simple racists,” said Mal, leaning back with satisfaction when he saw that Draco was done.

Draco leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees. He palmed his eyes and sighed. Did this muggle... did this man really have the answer? He was so wise... and he sounded so right. But that meant that everything he was ever taught - the hatred of muggles, the immorality of mudbloods - was all unjust.

“But... father...” Draco slapped his face to get the thought out of his head. But father? But what? His father wasn’t a god; he wasn’t perfect! He could be wrong. And Draco couldn’t let Lucius Malfoy make all his decisions for him.

Draco had to think for himself now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Audrey?”

“Yeah,” said the girl behind the desk as she dragged a rag across the counter to collect the dust.

“I think there is something he is not telling us,” said Mal as he remembered the conversation from before.

Audrey scoffed, “Yeah, there’s a lot he’s not telling us. Like where he’s from, who his family is, what he does, where he goes to school. All he’s said is his name, that his father’s a prat and that he goes to some posh boarding school and can’t visit from September 1st on.”

Mal put his arms behind his head, thinking. “No... it’s something even more important than that... something so secret it’s dangerous.”

Audrey just rolled her eyes and continued her cleaning.


	4. Unspoken and Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Narcissa talk and Draco is forced to read books. Er... Yeah.

**Chapter 4: Unspoken and Unknown**

 

“Come back next week, maybe I’ll tell you.”

Once again, Mal refused to tell him. It had been three weeks since he started coming to the bookstore and three days since he started meeting Mal daily (seriously, did Mal just live at the shop?). Would it physically pain Mal to just tell him what the story was about?

Draco headed out of Pageturner, patting Mal on the shoulder and waving at Audrey.

It had become commonplace for him to wonder about the book - and he could tell it was a book - that Mal was writing. It was almost a habit now. Draco had a boundless imagination, so he imagined it could be a top secret document for the government, or maybe a book expressing his love for someone, or a textbook, or a fantasy novel  or━

Now he was just becoming obsessed. He really should just go back to his research; he had yet to read the historical textbooks. He pulled out the books and laid them on his bed, choosing one at random.

 

_The first world war was━_

 

“Draco?” his mother peered into his room and he jumped, scrambling to hide the books somewhere, anywhere━

“What is this?” she asked, picking up the book on the world wars.

“N - nothing, Mother,” he said.

“Is this - is this a muggle book?!” her voice raised and she looked like she was about to panic.

“No!” he tried and failed to snatch it from her.

“Yes it is! Don’t think I don’t recognize a textbook when I see one.”

“Mother, I can - I can explain,” he said frantically.

His mother sat on the bed, shocked that her son would have a book like this.

“You must dispose of these at once!” she said, picking up another text.

“No!” Draco grabbed one of the books - the one about the world wars - and held it to his chest. “I need them!”

His mother laughed hysterically. “You need them for what?”

“Research... I’m... I’m researching how better to defeat the muggles...” he looked away.

“You’re lying,” she said.

“What? No I’m not!”

“I’m your mother, Draco. I know when you’re lying,” Draco felt like he was falling. Was this it? Was he going to be disowned now?

The woman who raised him sighed. “Draco, I understand. You were curious. I remember when I was young and snuck into Andi - Andromeda’s room to steal her muggle book about some rabbit and a wonderland. I marvelled at it and loved the book - though I barely remember it now - but then mother caught me.”

“ _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_? Wait, what happened?” asked Draco.

The woman next to him smiled sadly, “I don’t think you want to know. But you see, Draco, the reason I told you this is because even though I won’t punish you, your father and Aunt Bellatrix and the Dark Lord would - would━”

“Mother,” Draco said. “Why must we be afraid of them and what they’ll do?”

“Because!” snapped his mother. “Don’t you understand? The Dark Lord is so powerful! I don’t want you to end up like - like all of those people who have disappeared!”

“Oh Mother,” said Draco, wrapping his arms around her for a rare hug. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ll - I’ll hide the books. And I’ve learned occlumency from Aunt Bella. It’s going to be fine. No one will find out.”

His mother clasped his hands. “What would your father think, though?”

Draco suddenly jumped off the bed. “I don’t care what Father thinks! Damn his opinion! He has ruled my life for so long, telling me ‘A Malfoy does this’ or ‘It’s not proper for a Malfoy to do this’! He told me - _he told me that a Malfoy bows to no one!_ And what is he doing if not that?”

“Your father has done what he can to help this family━”

“He has? Then why has he set me up to become a Death Eater? Has he no pride? Does he want his son grovelling at the feet of some murderer?”

His mother smiled slightly. “Imagine that. _You_ , berating your father for his lack of pride.”

“Hah,” laughed Draco. “You’re right. Imagine that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Audrey smiled at him when he walked into the shop. “Mal’s out today, sorry.”

“Oh, thank you for telling me,” he said. “I guess I’d better go.”

“Nonsense!” she smiled brightly at him. “You’ll just have to suffer through my presence for a while!”

Draco quirked a brow.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you brat!”

Draco just smirked. She smirked right back. “Right, well then, I think I should put you to work.”

“Um, no thank you,” said Draco.

“Come on,” she said. “You and Mal, I swear... You have to get off your arse and stop reading sometimes, you know.”

“Again, no thank you.”

“Well, too bad. I make Mal do this too sometimes. You will be banned from the store if you don’t help. Seriously, you come here and read and you barely buy any books! And you scare my other customers away!”

“Okay, okay.” Draco held his hands up in a gesture of universal peace, as if that would somehow ward her off. “Wait - you have other customers?”

Audrey hit him. “Yes, you prat.”

Draco laughed and dropped his bag. “What do you want me to do?”

“Organise. These bookshelves go to shit after about a week, so I need them all organized by genre and author’s last name. You can do those three bookshelves,” she said as she pointed to the three tall and long bookcases behind the seating area.

Draco sighed. So this was how he was going to spend his day. He actually had something he wanted to ask Mal, but he completely forgot it now. Oh well. He had better get to his chores.

Manual labor. Ick. Draco was used to running around the Malfoy property, but he had never actually had to work for anything. Obviously, this was pretty stressful for Draco.

Before he actually got started, though, he found three books in the culinary section that definitely didn’t belong there. “Audrey? What is _The Lord of the Rings_?”

He heard a screech and a bang as something or someone fell over, probably taking a stack of books with her.

“Audrey?” he asked tentatively.

“Yep! Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Draco chuckled. “No problem.”

Audrey peaked out beside the shelf he was currently “working” on. “Seriously, though, you haven’t read that trilogy? Or _The Hobbit_?”

Draco shook his head. “Honestly, I haven’t had much time for more sci fi or any fantasy with all the research I’ve been doing.

Audrey’s jaw dropped. “But they’re so... so... so good! Just ask Mal!”

“I think I’ll take your word for it.”

Audrey’s shocked visage crumbled into one of pure malice. “YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY WORD FOR IT!”

She ripped the trilogy out of his hands and ran at a breakneck speed towards the areas of the library least explored by Draco - after cooking, young adults, and self help, that is.

He followed her, strolling past her own piles of books, to the fantasy section, where she had amassed a hoard of books, presumably for him to read. Among them were _A Game of Thrones, The Fellowship of the Ring, Assassin’s Apprentice, Jhereg, Silmarillion_ , and several books with Merlin in the title.

“ _Merlin_?” he said. Audrey looked at him curiously, so he expounded his statement, “You guys know about Merlin?!”

Audrey now looked a bit worried. “Yes, of course... he’s part of a legend almost everyone knows. He’s often in children’s stories.”

Merlin... no pun intended. How could _Merlin_ have been know to muggles? Then again, he did exist in a time when magic was still feared, if not as well known as it had once been. Still... it was interesting to know that at least some things transcended the boundaries between the magic and the muggles.

Audrey waved a book at him, “Oi! Are you even listening?”

“What?” She was saying something?

“I said, ‘This book isn’t the first in the series, but I like it the best. I know you really should be starting with the first book, but you’ll have to live with this.”

“Why?” asked Draco, looking at the spine of the book, which said _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_.

“Because I want to see your reaction to reading it! Now you need all of these books. It’s essential to a fantastical education.”

Draco smirked at that thought. “Okay, but I didn’t bring enough money to buy them today.”

Audrey sighed. “Fine. Well, you can read them here, I guess...”

Draco smiled. He was getting out of working! He felt accomplished.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Draco asked me an interesting question today,” said Audrey.

Mal looked up from his work. “Hmmm?”

“He said, ‘You know about Merlin?’” she said. “Seriously, it’s like he thought it was a big secret or something.”

“That’s interesting,” said Mal, feigning distraction to get a rise out of Audrey.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Audrey threw a book at him, but he ducked before it could hit.


	5. Magic and a Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is found out... then he gets a surprise.

**Chapter 5: Magic and a Summons**

 

Draco sat across from Mal in the little bookshop. It was the 25th of July and it was a relatively nice day. Audrey couldn’t understand why they were sitting in a shop with no air conditioning when they could be playing football outside or lounging in the sun. She obviously didn’t understand the value of learning. Oh god, he sounded like Granger.

Mal, on the other hand, never seemed to leave the bookshop. Sure, he’d go to eat and visit his daughter and sleep, but other than that...

Really, what was Mal working on?

“Mal━”

“No.”

“You don’t even know━”

“Maybe I will tell you later,” Dammit.

Draco sighed and went back to his book. Typical Mal.

“So,” said his companion. “I heard from Audrey that you’ve delved into the world of fantasy.”

Draco nodded, so Mal continued. “What did you think?”

“Well... I really liked _A Game of Thrones_ and _The Lord of the Rings_ , though Tolkien does go a little overboard with the descriptions... and _Assassin’s Apprentice_ was difficult to read, but I liked it a lot. Hmmm.... I didn’t really like _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ , but maybe it’s because that was for children...” and it portrayed the witch as evil.

“Hmmm...”

“And I was really interested in the magical aspect of things, even if a lot of what they said was wrong - I mean, didn’t make sense to me,” shit, Mal was going to notice that blunder.

“How would you know that it was wrong?” asked Mal.

Draco looked away. He didn’t really want to lie to Mal, but he didn’t have a choice. “I mean, my dad used to be a magician before he w - retired. Not a real magician, of course, but one who did magic tricks and the like. I just remember that all of his tricks had stupid answers that had to do with physics and science and sometimes, just silly things like a trick exit in the box...”

Mal eyed him dubiously. “You said that that what they said was wrong. If you thought it was not real, you would have said so. I know you by now, Draco, and I know you are hiding something. It just took me a while to put it together.”

Audrey was loitering behind them.

“These facts would not sound very significant unless you put them together: you had never heard of electronics, you did not know any history, you did not know anything about the world, your father was a ‘magician’, you go to a school that nobody I have spoken to knows about, you seem to disappear after you leave the tube - yes, I have followed you - you say Merlin a lot, you did not think we would know who Merlin is, and you spoke of magic as if it were real. They seem like totally unrelated things, but I am a genius, Draco. I am already invested in a multitude of conspiracy theories, so a secret society of magic completely secluded from the non magical world is not exactly implausible.”

Draco sat still for a moment. He didn’t know what he could say; what could he possibly do to convince Mal that magic wasn’t real? He had never thought he would end up breaking the statute - oh Merlin, he was dead, he was dead. He would be sent to Azkaban - well, maybe not that, but sued, and his friends would be obliviated and he would never see them again━

Laughing... who - why was Audrey laughing?

“You’re having us on, aren’t you, Mal?” she said.

“What - no!” Mal snapped. “I’m serious!”

“Yeah, for once, you’re serious... and we’re talking about bloody _magic_.”

“Yeah, Mal, this is really funny...” said Draco, trying to pass it off as nothing, but he was too shaken by the fact that _Mal_   _had actually found out_ to truly do so.

Mal kind of looked mad. “Audrey, seriously, just be quiet,” at her protest, he put a hand up to shush her. “Draco, you do not have to lie to us. I’m assuming it is illegal for you to tell any non magical entity about the existence of magic, or we would have known about it long ago... or maybe your society hires workers to erase people’s memories when they find out about the magic. However, the only way they would know if we knew about it is if we told anyone - unless they had a spell to track who says magic, which would be useless anyway. Who are we going to tell, Draco? I wouldn’t tell my daughter, but even if I did, no one would believe her because she is a child. And Audrey’s family lives in America and they barely keep in contact.”

Draco looked curiously at Audrey, but he stored the knowledge he’d gained for a later date. He smiled slightly, forcing his breaths to even and calming himself.

“You really are a genius, aren’t you? No one else would have been able to figure it out.”

Audrey gaped at him, dropping the book she had been planning to sort. “Wait, wait, wait. So you’re saying... you have magic. Like _magic_ magic?”

“Ummm... yes...”

“That’s bullshit,” she said. “Prove it!”

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t prove it. I’m not allowed to use magic outside of school until I’m seventeen.”

Audrey scoffed. “Well that’s convenient!”

“Audrey!” Mal said. “Seriously, I have explained it to you. It all makes sense this way, and Draco is not denying it!”

“Well I won’t believe it until I see it.”

Draco suddenly had an idea. “I’ll be back - just stay here, okay. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, he ran out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco smiled as he walked back into the shop with a small box in hand. Audrey was there to greet him with her arms crossed. “This had better be worth it.”

He walked through the shop, stopping at the end. He then went behind the bookshelf there.

“Look at this,” he said as he opened the box.

Mal and Audrey had both followed him and they peered into it, only to jump back when a blast of flame shot out, heating the already warm air.

“What - what?” but Draco wasn’t done. He reached into the box and waited.

The other two waited, wondering what was going to happen, when Audrey gasped. She had seen something moving onto his hand.

“What is it?”

Draco pulled his hand out of the box and held it out, palm up, with a little model of a dragon sitting on it. But the dragon didn’t stand still like a model should. No, as soon as it was out, it tried to fly, but something was stopping it. None of them had the time to care; they were too busy staring at the marvelous little beast.

“Is that a dragon?” asked Mal. “I didn’t think they would be so small!”

Draco smiled. “It’s not an actually dragon. It’s an animated model. It’s not actually alive. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes started selling them when they opened after my fourth year.”

“So it is not sentient? Is it on a loop? Will it eventually start repeating the same things it has been doing with us?” asked Mal.

“No, it isn’t sentient, but Mal, you’re thinking like a muggle.”

Mal thought he should take offense, but he had no idea what that meant.

At his confused expression, Draco explained, “Non magical folk. You’re thinking like someone who grew up in the muggle world - and there’s nothing wrong with that,” he finally said it. “But with magic, the possibilities are boundless. Basically, though wizards and witches can make things sentient, but it would be cruel for these little creatures, so they’re just charmed to act like a sentient dragon would.”

“Wait - so there are _actual_ dragons?” asked Audrey.

Draco sent her a piteous look. “Of course there are!”

“Well _I_ didn’t know that,” she defended. “A few hours ago, I didn’t even know magic existed, let alone dragons.”

“You think dragons are special? Wait ‘til I tell you about goblins!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After a long while filled with discussion of magic and his world, Draco purchased another book and went to the tube. This time, he took his time getting to the Leaky Cauldron. He was in such a good mood that he just wanted to admire the world. He had never actually gotten a chance to admire the muggle world before this.

He was almost reluctant to go home, but he knew his mother would be worrying and anyway, he had something to give her. So he went home, heading straight for the parlor, where the house elves told him his mother would be.

“Mother!” he called melodiously. He distractedly pulled the book he had bought out of his bag. “Mother, I got you somethi━”

Draco knew something was wrong when he saw one of the tables with a chessboard broken on the floor. He ran into the room and ran to her as soon as he saw her.

His mother, so elegant, so pristine, was lying on the ground near the couch, as though she had tried to sit, but fell off the edge. Her robes were bunched up around her, unlike their usual impeccable manner, and her hair was tangled because she had run her hands through it in frustration too many times. Her hands were folded on her lap and she was staring at the broken tea cup blankly.

“Mother?” he said, kneeling down and reaching for her hands with his own free hand.

She pulled away from him, turning so he wouldn’t see her face. He heard her stifle a sob, though, and knew she was trying not to cry.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” he said softly.

She pressed one hand to her mouth and smothered another sob.

“Bella came to visit today...” she said.

“What? She didn’t hurt you, did she?” he asked angrily. He knew Aunt Bella for her torturous ways, but he never thought she’d hurt her sister.

His mother shook her head. “No. But she was so proud - so proud. She said━”

She started to sob and he reached forward to hold her unoccupied hand. “She said what?”

“She said that you had been chosen... b-b-by the Dark Lord! He want - wants you, _my baby_ , for a dangerous task that only - only you can complete. He wants - wants yo - ou _marked_!”

Draco’s hand slackened against hers. “When?” he asked throatily.

His mother tore her hand from his grasp so she could cover her face with both hands, bawling into her palms.

“T - to - tomorrow!” she cried.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow? But why - he hadn’t heard about this! Why hadn’t he heard about this? He was going to - oh _Merlin_ , he had to take the mark! He wasn’t ready for this! He had just decided he didn’t want to!

He stood, wobbling slightly. “Oh,” was all he could say.

He shakily took a few steps backwards before dropping his things, turning, and running from the room.

His mother stayed where she was, crying until she could no longer. Once she was done, she lowered her hands, and the first things she saw were a book Draco had dropped, and his school messenger bag. She crawled over to his things, running a hand across the bag before she stopped at the book.

She gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth once again when she saw it. For sitting on the floor in front of her, pages ruffled from the fall, was her old favorite story, _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.


	6. Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision has arrived.

**Chapter 6: Dignity**

 

“And do you, Draco, accept this mark and vow to serve your lord until death spirits you away?” asked the Dark Lord in some sick parody of a wedding vow to the boy – and he was just a boy – kneeling at his feet in the Riddle Mansion.

Draco Malfoy was not a stupid boy. He was actually quite intelligent, despite all appearances. Intelligent enough to know that disobeying his father would lose him his family and everything he had ever known. Intelligent enough to know that obeying his father and joining the Dark Lord would lose him his dignity and more importantly - maybe not to Draco - his life.

Draco Malfoy was not a caring boy. He never felt compassion for his schoolmates, obviously, and never bothered with petty relationships. Not to say he didn’t want friendship. But the only three people he ever cared about were his mother, father, and his potions professor.

So you see that Draco had a difficult decision ahead of him.

But when he thought about cool, smart Mal his daughter and his mysterious book and Audrey and her snark, he couldn’t help but be afraid for them. Were their deaths parts of his future career? And what of his family? Would they die if he failed the Dark Lord? Would they die anyway?

He thought of the life his family would have on the run, and he thought of the life his family would have in service of the megalomaniac. He realised that giving his allegiance to the Dark Lord was even more of a betrayal to his family than giving them up. He thought, maybe, he would prefer a lifetime of glancing over shoulders and hiding in shadows to a lifetime of torturous servitude under a raving lunatic – _and yes, father, I did just call the Dark Lord a lunatic. A raving one at that._

How, though, would he get them out? Draco thought and thought and _thought_ , but his only hope was Snape. All he could think was how loyal Severus was to the Dark Lord. No, Severus wouldn’t rescue them. His mother had denied him the chance of running into the muggle world, saying she would not leave his father behind and that he would be fine, she was _sure of it_. He suspected some sort of secret about that hid behind his mother. But there was no point in asking now.

The woman now stood regally as always next to her _beloved_ sister, Bellatrix, whom she detested beyond words because _how could she betray her family to Voldemort?_

She wasn’t at all like her sister. She wasn’t at all like her nephew. Because Draco would never betray his family to a monster such as this.

So Draco looked up at the Dark Lord, poison in his glare, and spat his decision back at the man.

“A Malfoy…” he gulped. “Serves no one! A Malfoy bows to no one!”

A silence froze the room in a sweep, and only the gasp of Bellatrix Lestrange, which drew his attention away from the Dark Lord and back to his mother next to the deranged woman, could be heard. He had thought she would be angry, or at least upset, but no. Narcissa Malfoy was resilient, she was proud too. She was a Malfoy in name and a Black by blood. She agreed wholeheartedly. And so she smirked. She smirked in the face of certain death. She wouldn’t lament her son’s actions; instead, she would greet death with open arms if her son would live another day. And her son _would_ live another day. Severus vowed it.

The Dark Lord frowned, but fury was dancing in his eyes and Draco knew he didn’t have much longer. It was too late to escape.

“What,” started the snakelike man, “makes you think you have the _right_ to defy me?”

“I – it’s not about having the right to defy you. It’s having the ability to defy you that matters. And I do, so I won’t take it for granted.”

The man’s face contorted into a storm of rage and he yanked on Draco’s hair, raising his head so he would face the Dark Lord – so he could meet his eyes when he spelled the doom of the foolish boy.

Draco refused to meet the gaze of the madman, instead choosing to stare at his shoes in defiance. He wouldn’t let the Dark Lord use legilimency on him. Even the occlumency Bellatrix had taught him all summer would be feeble in the face of the murderer.

"You will look at me! You will look at me or your mother dies!” Draco’s eyes snapped to He-who-must-not-be-named’s and in that moment he felt a dagger rip through his carefully constructed shields, shredding his memories and his hopes and dreams and all the thoughts he had ever had. Draco tried so hard to redirect the man to something other than his muggle friends; if they were found, they were dead. He distracted himself with a mind exercise, counting thestrals, solving puzzles, anything that would get the man out of his mind. Finally, he conjured images of all the magical creatures he could remember and every meal he could remember having, careful to steer away from thoughts that would lead to the muggles. It was hard to block a person out of your mind, but it was easy to misdirect. Behind these thoughts, the man would find all the fear he felt, but nothing substantial, even if the Dark Lord cared to look.

Luckily, the man didn’t, and Draco was saved from the abuse. He fell to the ground, lying there until the Dark Lord deigned to look at him. The other man sneered and Draco thought this must be what it felt like to be on the other end of the malicious looks.

“ _Cautercutis!”_ snarled the Dark Lord.

And then there was no more. Just the fire. The burning. The chords of flame that shot out of the wand attacked his skin, weaving their way around his body and it _hurt_ and he couldn’t breathe. He could hear himself wailing and he didn’t really care because all he could focus on was the molten lava that was branding his body.

Finally, it stopped and he gasped like a drowning man, gulping in painfully cold air. He vaguely realised he had curled up into a foetal position and the Death Eaters around him were laughing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was just thankful. Thankful that it was _over_.

Amidst all the merriment, he heard a scream and footsteps pounding across the floor towards him.

“Mother, no…” he said when he saw her.

But it was too late. The Dark Lord had turned his attention to the woman and she froze, as if bound by a curse.

“As for you…” he raised his wand to the woman kneeling next to her son.

She gazed back defiantly.

“You should be ashamed that you raised a son as pitiful as Draco. You weren’t good enough to guide him and now you must be punished.” His lip curled disturbingly as he prepared to chant another spell. “ _Crucio!_ ”

“NO!” Draco jumped up, ignoring the pain lancing through his body, and blocked the curse before it hit his mother.

Oh god. This was ten times worse than anything he had ever felt, and he had been under the cruciatus curse before. But the addition of his brands made it so painful he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even move. He just lay in his crying mother’s lap, shaking like a leaf and moaning.

“Please… please!” the torture stopped.

“Please what, Draco?” asked the Dark Lord, feigning courtesy.

He knew he couldn’t defend his mother from this man and he didn’t know what else he could possibly do or say. “Please, don’t. Just… don’t!”

He-who-must-not-be-named turned to his followers.

“Did you hear that, my Death Eaters?”  he laughed. “Please don’t. That’s it – just don’t. Don’t do what, Draco? Torture you? _Crucio!_ ”

“Nnnnn…” black spots clouded his vision, but before he could pass into blissful oblivion, he was once again released from the spell.

“Or maybe he doesn’t want me to kill his mother?” His gnarly fingers twirled his wand around, and he almost looked gleeful. Or as gleeful as a dark lord could look.

“Restrain him! Severus, get the potion ready!”

Two burly Death Eaters hooked their arms around his upper arms and held him up, even as he struggled feebly. “Noooo!”

“Now, Draco, you will have the traitor’s brand for the rest of your life… however short it may be,” the Dark Lord smiled nastily. “Just remember. This is _your_ fault.”

“NO!” Draco wrenched himself forward uselessly as the man turned to his mother.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Well. It seems our weak little failure wasn’t able to cope with his mother’s death. Severus!” Voldemort shouted.

The potions master strode forwards, to the limp body between the two Death Eaters. He had a potion to administer. He nodded at them and they dropped the body to the floor. He bent down to complete his task.

He pressed the glass to the unconscious boy’s lower lip and before anyone could blink, the two Slytherins were gone.

 

 


	7. The End of a Life

**Chapter 7: The End of A Life**

 

“Damn!” said a sharp, cutting voice as two figures appeared on the road. The one kneeling half dragged, half carried the unaware one to a house on the side of the road that no one would have noticed before. It was strange that nobody would have noticed it. If they had looked at it now, they would have realised that it had been there all along. But all the people on the road were asleep and thus could not be bothered by the appearance of the shabby, dark abode.

Once inside, he hauled his companion to the fireplace and set him down before running out of the room. When he came back, he held a glass phial in his hand - different from the one he held before - with some sort of dark liquid in it. He quickly tipped it into the unconscious one’s mouth and held his jaw shut so he would swallow.

Quickly, the man heaved the other’s upper body into a mock embrace, lifting the boy’s legs with his other arm. Then, he used his wand hand (which had to hurt as he was currently multitasking with it) and waved it at a container of green powder near the fireplace, whisking a handful’s amount out of the pot and into his other hand, which he somehow manoeuvred to catch the dusty substance. Then, as gracefully as he could, he stepped into the fireplace, dropped the powder and said “Hogwarts, infirmary!”

Flames whipped around them and they were gone in a flash.

 

 

* * *

 

As Severus stumbled out of the fireplace, still garbed in Death Eater robes, Poppy Pomfrey startled and fell out of her chair – almost. She had enough grace to properly compose herself before looking at Snape’s charge. It was the Malfoy boy.

Madam Pomfrey ushered Severus to one of the beds in the actual infirmary (the floo led to her office) and he set the boy down carefully.

“What happened?” she exclaimed as she cast diagnostic spells on the child.

Severus took a deep breath. “Branding curse and Cruciatus curse, both performed by the Dark Lord.”

Madam Pomfrey stared at Severus for a moment before looking back to the boy and beginning to try and heal the wounds.

“And why did he brand Mr. Malfoy? Why was Mr. Malfoy anywhere near him?”

“He was being recruited,” said Severus.

Madam Pomfrey gasped. “Recruited? At sixteen?”

Severus sighed. “Yes… the Dark Lord had planned for him to kill Albus.”

“What? Kill – and he refused? That’s why this happened?”

“And he refused,” said Severus. “So the Dark Lord tortured him and killed his mother.”

“A sad fate,” said an old voice from the doors to the infirmary, “for a boy so young.”

Snape turned to Dumbledore. “It’s a sad fate for anyone, no matter how old.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lacked their usual cheer when he looked at the boy. “Truer words could not be said.”

 

 

* * *

 

His mouth felt, for lack of a better word, fuzzy. That was the first thing he was aware of. Then came the floating sensation, the painless sensation that came with healing potions. His head was somewhere. Somewhere far away, where he didn’t think he’d be able to go, no matter how hard he tried…

But then the memories flashed through his mind and he remembered the terrors he had experienced and _it wasn’t alright anymore_.

“Mmmmmnnn,” he tried, but his throat was too dry to properly work.

Someone bustled about his bed – he was on a bed? Why? Shouldn’t he be dead?

“Muh,” he said, trying to utter the word.

Someone soothed his hair back and then a woman was speaking. “What is it, dear?”

He tried to sit up, tried to do something, but a warm hand on his chest forced him back down. “Shhh, calm down.”

But he couldn’t calm down. Not until he knew.

“Mmmmother!” he tried.

His eyes shot open and he found himself in a familiar infirmary with a familiar nurse who looked at him sadly, pity blossoming in her eyes.

“W-what happened?” he asked hoarsely even though he was sure he knew what had happened.

Madam Pomfrey sighed and looked away. “I think it’s better for you to wait until Severus and Albus are here to explain.”

Draco shot out of bed, viciously trying to claw his way out, “No! I need—mother! No! Where – where is she?” he croaked.

The nurse just stopped him with magic, pushing him back onto the bed.

“ _Immobulus!_ ” she chanted, and he felt the immense displeasure of being locked in his own body.

“You need to calm down, Mr. Malfoy. Your wounds haven’t healed yet and you can’t afford to open them again. Rest now and you can talk later.”

Just as she spoke, however, two pairs of footsteps echoed through the almost empty hospital wing.

“I’m afraid, Poppy, that as much as I appreciate your efforts, we need young Mr. Malfoy lucid for now. As soon as we are done, you may enforce Draco’s rest once again.”

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in frustration and strode away, heading towards the potions cabinet, possibly to do inventory or just so she had something to do.

Professors Dumbledore and Snape turned their attentions to Draco, who was still lying in bed, unable to move.

Dumbledore waved his wand Draco was able to move.

“No one will overhear us now, Mr. Malfoy. Feel free to say whatever is prudent to the matter at hand. You are speaking in confidence.”

“What happened? And my mother – is she okay? Is she… is she alive?”

Snape looked away and Dumbledore’s countenance darkened as he relayed the news. “Do you remember refusing Voldemort?”

Draco flinched at the name, but nodded.

“What all do you remember?” the headmaster asked.

“I…” Draco said quietly as he couldn’t seem to speak any louder. “I remember refusing the Dark Lord, and then the b—” he coughed, “Burning – it… it was terrible… But then he was going to punish Mother for my betrayal, so I jumped in the way and he – and he… I was cursed. Then they grabbed me and the Dark Lord… my mother… he – he – did he?”

“I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Malfoy. Unfortunately, your mother was killed. You apparently fainted – from the strain of pain and emotional stress, I would assume – and when Severus was ordered to administer a potion that would slowly eat away at the lining of your stomach, he instead made a portkey and spirited you away. You nearly died, but fortunately, due to some quick thinking by Severus and Poppy, you did, indeed, survive. Unfortunately, your mother was not so lucky. She passed away four days ago.”

All the information his Draco at once: the betrayal, the torture, the death, the rescue and the fact that… his mother would never be there again to comfort him or advise him with confusing proverbs or just _hold him_. His chest seized and he couldn’t breathe! Nothing was right! Nothing was fortunate about his survival; he had killed his _mother_ and there was nothing he could do but panic.

“But – no! Mo-mother, she – she… can’t be dead… she just can’t!”

Dumbledore and Snape both gave him that dreadful and familiar expression full of pity and Draco was infuriated.

“No… NO! This was – my fault – my fault—”

“Draco, you made a wise move to defy Voldemort, albeit not in the best manner. I am very sorry for your loss, but no one can fault you for doing the right thing.”

What? Why were they even talking about right and wrong? And if he was doing right, why did he betray his mother to that – that monster? And Severus – where was Severus!

He turned to the man. “But – you! Where were you? Why couldn’t – couldn’t you have saved her?”

“It was impossible.”

“No – no it wasn’t! I was there! You could have saved her; you could have found an excuse to do it! I know you could have! You could have saved her and not me!” he whisper yelled.

One of Severus’ brows quirked and he sneered at Draco. “You are a fool! Do you think I could have thrown myself in front of her – like you? Or did you think I would have gone on a rampage and killed as many Death Eaters as possible before I was killed, along with you and your mother? I saw my chance and I took it, and I wouldn’t change a thing. _You_ are the one who should have learned not to be so hot headed and thick!”

Draco flinched as if he had been slapped. Snape was right… it was his fault. He was so arrogant and didn’t think of the consequences for his mother when he did what he did. He _was_ a fool. And what could he do about it now?

“I – I…” he stuttered. “What do I do now?”

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, there aren’t many options for you. You will not be hated by the Death Eaters as much as Mr. Potter, but you will definitely be the subject of ridicule amongst your fellow Slytherins. I’m afraid there really is not much I can do about that, but I can offer you sanctuary here at Hogwarts, whereas if you left, you would not be faced with much kindness. You are always welcome here, however.”

“Until I’m seventeen, you mean,” said Draco.

“No, my boy. You will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

“Thank you… I su – suppose,” Draco looked down at the bed sheets, in which his fingers were tangled from fiddling. He thought it would be better than meeting Dumbledore’s eyes and having his mind ripped apart again.

“I think it would be wise, boy, to allow me to perform legilimency as to ascertain the truth about your loyalties.”

Draco froze. “N-no! Absolutely not!”

“Draco—”

“NO! The last – last time that happened, the Dark Lord ripped through my mind and it hurt so much!”

“Draco, you misunderstand. If you let me, your mind will remain intact – not that I will force your mind open. I am not going to brutally rifle through the things you have been through,” said the headmaster.

Draco sighed… “Okay.”

He looked up at Dumbledore, who just smiled and said, “Thank you, Draco.”

He stared at him and then Severus. “What? But nothing,” he coughed again. “-happened!”

“You see, Draco. I did not lie when I said it would be painless.”

“O – okay…” he said, a little confused. He looked to Severus, who nodded shortly. He couldn’t believe it

“Now,” said Dumbledore. “I think it is time to let you sleep. I think Severus and Poppy will agree that you need it.”

 

 

* * *

 

When he next woke, it was dawn and there was no sound in the room. Draco looked around, and when he didn’t see Madam Pomfrey, he slowly slipped out of bed. He had been in the Hospital Wing enough that he knew where the bathroom was, so he hobbled over. He still couldn’t walk properly because of the Dark Lord’s spell.

He finally reached the door after what seemed like years and he pushed it open. He needed to get clean. But he stopped when he got to the mirror that spanned the back wall of the room. This – what was this?! He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, he wouldn’t see the disgusting thing he had seen in the mirror.

That was just a hope, though. And his luck was running thin recently, so he doubted this was a dream. He slid his eyes open and as he thought, the grotesque scars he had seen the first time were still there. He stripped so he could see them better.

Was this what the Dark Lord did? He had said everyone would know that Draco was a traitor… so he branded him..?

There was a scar coiled around his leg, twisting from the top of his left foot to mid-thigh. Another wrapped around his back. It started a little below the end of the first one, parallel to the other. Then it curved around his thigh and up to his hip, following the bone until it turned onto his back and ended at his spine. The third one seemed to continue from the second one, only a few inches between the end of one and the start of the other. It simply curved along his shoulder, stopping just before the end. Then there was one that started at the right side of his jaw, three inches above the bottom and an inch away from the ear, and it crossed over his neck to his left shoulder, where it stopped in a curve a little before the end. The next began at his arm pit and curled around to the front of his left arm, slicing right through the empty space where the dark mark should have been.

It was disgusting. The red lines were bright against his pale skin and he could almost feel the brand running across his body when he looked at them. Here was another nasty reminder of everything that happened that night. It seemed nothing wanted him to forget the incident.

He fell to his knees, curling over them in a ball, and groaned as loud as he could – and he couldn’t even do that properly! Was he good for anything?

No. Of course he wasn’t. He had gotten his mother killed!

He had thought that it might be better to let his parents go than serve the Dark Lord, but he didn’t mean that they would die! He thought they would disown him and stay with the genocidal maniac!

Now they were gone and he was alone.

He sobbed until there were no more tears left to cry, and then he curled up on the floor and slept.

 


	8. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets used to things.

**Chapter 8: Limbo**

 

            It was two weeks before he was released from the Hospital Wing. Apparently, he had vocal cord paresis, which meant his vocal cords were not quite paralyzed. Basically, he could talk, but it would sound gruff and hoarse all the time. Sometimes all that could be heard was a whisper. He would cough a lot, and he would clear his throat a lot. He would have to be extra careful when eating too.

                   Madam Pomfrey was trying to find a way to cure his condition, but it seemed the brand so severely damaged his throat that it was a miracle he could even talk.

                   The wounds took even longer to heal and they left red welts all over his body. It would be a while, Madam Pomfrey said, before they would fade.

                   He was kind of numb, though - to the world, to everything. He had taken to wandering the castle grounds and holing himself up in the Slytherin dorms with tons of books before the semester started, which would be in three weeks. A hush had fallen over the castle, and it seemed inappropriate to even breathe too loudly. He needed to get out. He still had to go to Diagon Alley to get his books anyway, but he hadn’t asked Professor Dumbledore if he could yet.

            Draco didn’t think Dumbledore would actually let him go out, but the man was quite enthusiastic about about it. When asked why, he said it was because he was glad Draco had gained the courage to go out in public with his scars, which he knew Draco hated with a passion.

            What the professor didn’t know was that the boy would be keeping his hood up at all times.

            Draco prepared to leave and thought about the courses he was taking so he could purchase the proper books.

            He had an O in Potions, of course, and in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. In the rest of his classes, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Astronomy, and History of Magic, he had managed to get Es. His mother would have been so proud...

He would continue with Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Herbology. He wouldn’t even take muggle studies if you threatened to burn all his books (great, sounding like Granger again), because that class was a joke. Divination was too, so that was out. He would take Ancient Runes instead. He had decided a long time ago to take Alchemy as well. That sounded fair. Eight classes was a bit much for a sixth year, but he could handle it.

            And thus Draco, chaperoned by Severus, went to Diagon Alley to get his supplies for school one and a half weeks later. Of course the headmaster would choose the week everyone would be going for supplies.

Apparently, he was wrong, but he didn’t pay attention to the fact that for the first time in his life, Diagon Alley seemed like a dull and dreary place to be. No, he went on his way, keeping his head down so the few people pacing the streets wouldn’t see his face.

His first stop was Gringotts, where he withdrew a sackful of galleons, some of which he would convert to pounds, from his personal vault (Luckily, the goblins had options if your key was lost, such as blood recognition). He only had about ʛ40 inside, but he figured getting the money from his own vault that Mother... _that Mother_ had set up would be better than accessing the family vault and triggering the wards that would alert his father about who was there and what said person was doing. Lucius Malfoy may still have been in prison, but he had not lost his plethora of connections.

            Lucius, however, didn’t even know about this vault. Draco had nothing to worry about, so he left with his money and bought all of the books he needed. He then went to Madam Malkin’s to get new robes as he had grown a lot over the summer - in height _and_ muscle mass, seeing as he had so much free time at Hogwarts that he grudgingly decided to help Hagrid haul hundreds of logs and branches, which he then helped chop (he was unsure why he did so instead of the house elves though).

            When she waved her wand and switched his robes, he self consciously raised his hand to cover his most visible scar.

She slapped Draco’s hand down. “You know you have to leave your hands down, boy!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” groaned Draco, sighing as he wrung his hands.

She looked up at him, bewildered that he had apologized because in all the time she knew him, he had only been a stuck up prat - he didn’t apologize for anything. The older woman gasped, caught between shock and pity, when she saw his face.

“My dear child, what happened?”

“That’s - that’s not any of your business,” Draco uttered as he glared venomously. “Now hurry - hurry up and finish! I have other places to be.”

There was the Malfoy she knew, and she certainly wasn’t going to provoke him by asking about his voice. She sighed and got to work, and by the time she was done, Draco was bored out of his mind - or maybe he just wanted to leave, because when he looked around, all he could think was ‘Mother would like that shade of purple’ or ‘Mother would never let me wear that’. Draco felt tears welling up in his eyes, but before he could cry, she waved him off. He stalked out of the door, pulling his hood up and nodding to Professor Snape, who refused to come into the shop with him.

It was when he took a detour to Quality Quidditch Supplies that he ran across anyone from Hogwarts. He had wanted to see the new broom, the Lightning Strike. He stopped though, before he reached the display, because he saw two people he would have preferred not to run into. They weren’t the worst, but they certainly wouldn’t be happy to see him.

He turned to make his escape, hopeful that they wouldn’t glance at him, but Seamus Finnigan looked up at the last moment.

“Is that - Malfoy?” he said because he probably couldn’t see very much under the cloak.

Draco spun on his heel, bracing for any remark they might make, and headed for Snape, who was just outside the door.

“It _is_!” said Dean Thomas. “Hey, Malfoy, what are you doing here without your mummy? Doesn’t she usually take you shopping?”

Thomas only knew that because he had run into Draco once last year and once three years ago, both times with his mother.

But his mother was dead and Thomas could not have known, but that didn’t mean Draco was a reasonable person. He snapped his wand out, quick as a whip, and pointed it at Thomas.

“You take that back!” he said, speaking the loudest he had since the Incident, eyes wide and furious. He didn’t think he’d ever felt such rage directed at another person besides himself and the Dark Lord.

“Now, see here, young man━” started the old shop attendant, but Draco didn’t hear him.

He breathed through his nose, trying to regulate his breath, and said less vehemently, “You take that back.”

Seamus Finnigan looked somewhat scared, and Dean looked somewhat baffled, like he hadn’t expected such a violent response.

Then a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Draco,” said Severus. “I think it is time to leave, don’t you?”

Draco reluctantly lowered his wand, glowering at the two young men and whirling around. He stalked out the door without a backward glance.

 

* * *

 

            Draco was furious. He didn’t know who angered him more: Thomas or himself. But really, that was an easy question to answer. Thomas had made a comment that riled him. He didn’t do what Draco had. He didn’t betray Draco’s mother to the Dark Lord and watch her die. He was blameless in that matter. It was Draco who had done it, Draco who had wronged. And there was nothing he could do to fix it. He had killed someone... although inadvertently, he had done it. Now the only question was this: if Malfoy were truly doing the right thing, as Dumbledore said, why the hell did he feel so bad about it?

_But,_ Draco thought, _There’s no use dwelling on it now. I_ can’t _dwell on it now._

The young Malfoy finished the last of his shopping and turned to Severus, intent on asking a question he was certain would be shot down.

            “Can we go to - to muggle London?” he asked as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron.

            Snape stopped in his tracks. “ _What?_ ”

            “I said━”

            “I know what you said!” he snapped. “It’s the why I’m trying to figure out.”

            “I just want to vis - visit someone. That’s all,” said Draco.

            “ _Visit_ someone? Who could _you_ possibly know in muggle London?” Snape looked sceptical.

            “Just - will you let me go?” Draco said, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves.

            Snape hesitantly nodded. “Fine.”

            He headed down the street quickly after transfiguring their clothes to those of muggles, and Draco stumbled to keep his pace. They sped through the pub, none too eager to loiter among the somewhat seedy bunch.

            Muggle London was a lot livelier than Diagon Alley, and for that, Draco was glad. He was also happier for the anonymity, though he still kept the hood of his sweatshirt up. He marched the now familiar path to Pageturner. When they arrived, Snape’s eyebrows elevated higher than Draco had ever seen. Suddenly, Draco was very self-conscious about the shop.

            “Wh - what, you think I don’t read?” Draco’s eye twitched.

            “Muggle books, Draco?” Snape asked, bewildered.

            “Do you have a - a problem with that?”

            Severus just sighed and waved him on. Draco headed through the door and smiled his first genuine, lopsided smile since the Incident when he saw Audrey at the counter and Mal at his usual spot.

            “Hello, how can I - Draco!” Audrey exclaimed, and Mal turned around.

            “Good afternoon, Draco! It has been a while,” he stopped and gestured at Severus. “Who is this?”

            Draco introduced his professor. “Mal, Audrey, this is my... my chem - chemistry teacher at the - the school, Severus Snape. Professor, this is Malcolm, and that’s Audrey.

            “They’re my friends,” he added proudly.

            Severus nodded at the two and they nodded back.

            “Draco... What happened to your voice?” he asked.

            Draco sighed. He knew this would come up and he had planned for it, but it seemed harder to do things in person than to act them out in his head. He cautiously pulled down his hood, grimacing when he thought of their reactions.

            “Oh my god!” said Audrey. She bustled over - to get a closer look, Draco supposed.

            Mal’s gaze turned hard as steel. “Who did this to you?” he asked.

            Draco gulped. He hadn’t planned for this reaction. “U-um, it was...” he didn’t know what to say.

            “Was it your father?” Mal asked fiercely.

            “N - no! No, it wasn’t him. It was - well. My father isn’t around right now, so it was just Mother and me. Mother used to say that it was better that way, because then we wouldn’t be influenced by his prejudices. A - anyway. It wasn’t him. It was hi - his friends.” He wanted to tell his friends the truth, but he knew it would have to wait for his letters. After all, Severus couldn’t know that they knew.

            “Used to?” Mal asked at the same time as Audrey said, “Who are they? Have you reported this to the police? Is this why you haven’t come to visit?”

            Draco avoided looking at Mal and said, “No, the police would - n’t be able to help━”

            Audrey looked astounded. “What do you mean? Of course they would! They could track these━”

            “No, the pol - police in the place I come from are really corrupt... and if they knew - knew it was _me_ who had been attacked, they would probably be happy.”

            “Why would they do that?” asked Audrey.

            “Because - cause my father doesn’t have the best - the best reputation,” how he hated his vocal cord paresis.

            Mal chose this moment to cut in. “Did they kill your mother?”

            Draco flinched. Mal took that as a yes. He walked forward and clutched Draco’s shoulder comfortingly.

            “Draco...” he said. “My friend, I am so so sorry.”

            Draco would normally have told someone to piss off if they said that, but from Mal, he didn’t mind. It didn’t seem like he pitied Draco. There was more sympathy than pity in his eyes. Draco didn’t particularly mind, and he felt somewhat glad he had come here.

            “Any - anyway! I didn’t come here to talk about that - I came to get your addresses so I can mail you when I go to school!”

  


* * *

  


            “Do you know why you are here?” said the viper of a man.

            The one kneeling in front of him cowered. “I’m - I’m here to serve you.”

            “Yess,” said the tall, dark silhouette. “You are here to _serve_. And serve you will do. _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

            The other’s body tumbled to the floor and the man neared it on bare feet, silent as the grave. He pulled out his wand, preparing to complete his spell quickly when a snake slithered toward him.

            _“You know the consequences you will face with your actions today. Your soul might not survive the process,”_ it hissed at the human, who seemed to understand it.   
            _“I have done the research, as you of all beings should know. I know what I face.”_

The snake backed away sceptically. _“If you insist. But it will not be a surprise when you lose your power - and your mind.”_

            _“Enough!”_ spat the dark figure. _“I know what I am doing!”_

_“Yes, my lord,”_ said the snake. _“Of course you do.”_

The pale man smirked, and, confident in his abilities, he waved his wand. _“Let us begin!”_

 


	9. The Beginning of a New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so Draco starts anew.

**Chapter 9: The Beginning of a New**

 

On September the 1st at 10:30 am, Draco Malfoy prepared to floo to London. It was inconvenient that he had to go to the train station only to come back to the castle on the Hogwarts Express, but Dumbledore said that no one could know that Draco stayed at the castle during the summer. It would be a show of favoritism.

It was once he actually got to the Hogwarts Express that he began to doubt himself. He couldn’t wear his hood the entire time they were at school, but he would certainly wear it on the train. But what would people think, when they actually saw it. There was no doubt in his mind that he would no longer rule the Slytherin house, and it frustrated him, but he didn’t mind so much. The Slytherin house was divided into two parts. The wannabe Death Eaters plus the ones pretending to be so and the ones who were cunning enough not to show their true alliances. Most of the house was actually comprised of non-Death Eaters, but they didn’t stand out because most of the purists were loud and brutish about their views, making Slytherin notorious for its views on muggles and mud - muggleborns.

Draco wasn’t even sure about Salazar Slytherin’s views. Hogwarts: A History was a compilation of rumors and the like, not truth. Salazar might have hated muggles, but he might have had a reason. He might have even been trying to protect the school by getting rid of the muggleborns who would betray them in the end, in his opinion.

It was only the prejudiced purebloods and the ignorant who thought Salazar Slytherin was exactly as he was described in the book. And the Gryffindors. Did any of the Gryffindors even care what happened to the Slytherins?

Speaking of Gryffindors, there was the mother of those damn Weasels, talking to Potter, who had just boarded (lucky for him, the Gryffindors who boarded before hadn’t seen him), then running until she had no time left to worry like a mother hen.

Malfoy huffed and turned to the train, a twinge of anger biting at him when he thought of the Weasels and their mother. Did they even know what pain was? Did they even know how much it hurt to lose your family? They probably had never experienced tragedy in their lives, and for that, Draco resented them.

Pushing thoughts of his mother out of his mind, lest he began bawling in the middle of the hallway. He frowned and trudged to the prefects’ carriage; he supposed it would be better to go there than to run into any of his former friends.

He walked into the compartment and took a seat next to a rather grumpy looking Ravenclaw and his companion. The others were seated according to house, the Hufflepuffs huddling together and whispering quietly, and the Gryffindors across from him were glaring viciously.

“Hey Malfoy, where’s your girlfriend?” asked Weasel.

Draco looked up from his nails, which he had been previously inspecting as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Parkinson. Where is she? Isn’t she usually hanging off your arm like some groupy?”

“Parkinson’s not my girlfriend, Weas - el. And why - why would I know where she is?” he sneered.

“Oh... well what happened to your voice?” said Weasel, obviously not intelligent enough to come up with a better response. Granger, meanwhile, had pointedly buried herself in a book, ignoring anything that might break out into a fight. She had long since given up trying to temper the rivalry between Weasley, Potter, and Draco.

"Nothing - nothing you need to worry about━”

“Alright!” said a rather loud voice as Nicholas Blackridge and Cho Chang, the new head boy and the new head girl, strode into the compartment. “We have a lot to go over this year!”

Then started his long spiel about the duties of a prefect and the curfews and fair point taking. He looked specifically at Draco when he said this.

“We first want you to patrol the halls of the train and help anyone who comes to you - and Draco, for Merlin’s sake, take off that hood!”

“Why?” asked Draco.

“Because it’s annoying,” said Chang.

Draco looked up from his nails, which he had once again been studying. “Why is - is it annoying?”

Chang frowned. “Because we’d like to see your face when talking to you.”

“You can see my - y face just fine━”

“Just take it off! As a prefect, you have to do as the head boy and girl command!”

“I don’t understand,” said Draco. “There’s nothing - nothing in the school rules against wearing a hood on the train.”

By this time, all the occupants of the carriage were glaring at him.

“Merlin, Draco, do I have to take off house points before we even get to Hogwarts?”

Draco flinched. He didn’t think that would go over well with his housemates. He sighed. Well, this moment was coming sooner or later, and he knew that. So, hesitantly, he pulled the hood down, revealing the ugly, red scar that crossed his face and neck.

“Good god, what happened to you?!” asked Nicholas.

Draco’s eyes snapped to the head boy, glaring ferociously. “That you won’t get out of me, no matter how - how many house points you take away.”

He turned and looked at the other members of the compartment and bristled at the pity that shone in their eyes. This was exactly the reaction he expected.

“That’s what happened to your voice, isn’t it? You have vocal cord paresis, don’t you?” asked Granger. “I read about it in━”

“That’s nice,” said Draco, abruptly shooting out of his seat, pushing past the head boy and girl, and stalking away to find his own compartment. Screw patrol. It wasn’t like the lower years would die without a prefect around. Besides, there were six other prefects (Pansy didn’t count - she wasn’t exactly a responsible person) who could do that job for him.

No compartment was empty, so he ended up sitting with a bunch of terrified first years. Why they were terrified, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like they had been at Hogwarts yet, so they wouldn’t know who he was.

Oh wait. He hadn’t put his hood back up, had he? Great. Now he had a bunch of quivering first years to deal with.

He glared at them and pulled his hood up. “What?” he snapped.

The children had the decency to look guilty, but he just sighed and turned away. He wish he had brought a book with him.

“E-excuse me, sir?” said one of the young ones.

Sir? They were calling him sir now?

“Yes?” he asked poisonously.

They seemed to shrink even smaller when he spoke to them. Well, he was glad he still had at least a little power... even if it was only over eleven year olds.

“Um... I was wondering... what house are you in?” asked a little black haired boy who looked suspiciously like Potter.

The other three nodded vigorously. The girl sitting next to the boy and across from him was dirty blond and had brown eyes as big as saucers, the boy next to Draco was a brunette with bright blue eyes, and the last one was a girl with short black hair and bright green eyes. She might have been the speaker’s sibling.

He quirked a brow and the four children jumped. Really? That’s all they wanted?

“Slytherin,” he mumbled. As soon as he spoke, the children seemed to come out of their shells.

“ _Really?_ ” asked the boy. He gestured to his look alike. “Our mum was in Slytherin! She say’s it’s the best house!”

The girl kicked him. “NO! _Daddy_ says that Gryffindor is the best house!”

“Ow!” said the boy.

“I’m going to have to agree - agree with your mother on this. Slytherin is, with - out a doubt, the best house,” he said, smirking slightly.

“Nuh-uh!” said the brown haired boy. “Gryffindor’s where the brave and the loyal people go! Slytherin’s where the liars and the bad guys go!”

Draco winced at his volume. “Are you saying I’m a bad guy?” he asked.

The brunette was caught like a deer in the headlights (did he actually just use that expression?) and he scooted a little closer to the girl next to him - and further from Draco.

“N-no! I’m just━”

“You’re just generalizing,” he said.

“Generalizing?” asked the Potter-look-alike.

“Yes. It means you’re judg - ing an entire group of people based on the actions of a few. It’s like saying that... Everyone in - in my family is crazy just because there are a couple nutters,” Well, that was technically true. “Or that everyone at the school - ool is good at potions because Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape went there. Or that everyone in Slytherin is a liar or bad just because - ause a few were.”

"Who’s Severus Snape?” asked Potter-look-alike, but his question was ignored when the blonde girl piped up.

“Doesn’t that mean you’re generalizing, when you say Slytherin’s the best house? Just because a lot of awesome people went there doesn’t mean they’re all that great!”

“I━” Draco frowned and the blonde girl smiled.

“And that means every house is equal!”

“Woah - woah! When did you find that out? All houses aren’t equal!” asked the brown haired boy, and silently, Draco agreed. “That sounds bad when I put it that way.”

“Well,” started the blonde, “If Slytherin is filled with people who are not just liars and bad guys, then it means it has some good guys too. And you can’t just decide that every bad guy goes to Slytherin because that’s just not true. And so other houses must have bad guys and good guys too. But they’re not all the same; the bad guys and the good guys were put in the house that they were for a reason - because they had a certain trait. So everyone with a certain trait goes to the house that embodies that trait. And there’s no pure evil trait, that’s silly! Why would anyone let pure evil people into Hogwarts if you could tell who they are? So everyone’s different, and if you like a different trait more, then you like a certain house more, but that doesn’t mean the others are less. It just means they’re not the house for you!”

Draco stared at the girl. How could this eleven year old girl sound so wise? She was just a child! Draco certainly wasn’t this mature at that age. And she had even come to that conclusion before him. He guessed... Just because Potter, Thomas, Weasel, Granger, Finnigan, Brown, and Longbottom were in Gryffindor didn’t mean they were all bad... Just his entire year. And most of the underyears. Oh who’s he kidding? Slytherin will always be the best... even though... even though he would never have his friends back.

“You’re smart,” he found himself saying. “What’s your name?”

All of a sudden, she turned into the shy little girl he had first taken her for. “L - Linda Marcus, sir!”

“You don’t have to ca - call me ‘sir’,” he said, “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

He reached out to shake her hand when he heard a gasp. It was the boy next to him.

" _You’re_ a _Malfoy_?!” he shouted and Draco was sure that could be heard from three compartments away.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“My dad says you’re the baddest wizards there ever were! You’re all De━

“OW!” he yelped. Draco laughed when he saw that Marcus had kicked the boy’s shin.

“Now _you’re_ generalizing!” she yelled. “Stop it or I’ll kick you again!”

“Okay, okay!” said the little boy.

The girl sat down, crossing her arms in satisfaction. “Now introduce yourself,” she ordered.

“James... I’m James Rudwell,” he muttered dejectedly.

The other boy took the chance to jump in. “And I’m Nathaniel Holmes. This is my sister, Sylvia.”

Apparently, the girl couldn’t speak for herself...

The entire train ride was spent in idle chatter about one thing or another: the feasts, Transfiguration class, the giant squid, etc. It did become clear that Sylvia preferred not to talk after all.

When it was time to change, Draco and the girls left, intent on finding their own compartments. Draco may have shown the prefects his scars, but he didn’t want many people seeing anything before it was absolutely inevitable.

He changed quickly and went back to the compartment with the boys. The girls returned soon after.

They arrived at the station in Hogsmeade and disembarked.

“Bye, Draco!” said Linda. The four students waved as they headed over to Hagrid. “See you at Hogwarts!”

Draco smiled crookedly at them, feeling the muscle movement pull at his scar and not caring, for once. Maybe he had done some good with these first years. Maybe he had done something good, for the first time in his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while; I kinda lost the swing of things.


	10. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco swallows up his fears and the sorting commences.

**Chapter 10: The Feast**

 

            Draco forgot about the thestrals. He had known that they were at Hogwarts, that they pulled the carriages up to the castle. But he’d never seen them before. Looking at the skeletal and eerily beautiful creatures bombarded him with memories. Mother had loved the creatures, with their uncanny wings protruding like those of a dragon from a bony back. Their muscles rippled, bodies riddled with anticipation. Mother would bask in the excitement they radiated. She knew, of course, that her son couldn’t see them, but that didn’t stop her from letting him ride with her on the herd at the Manor. Lucius thought they were insane, but she, for once, didn’t care about his opinion. It had been a lovely experience and Draco missed it so much - missed _her_ so much. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Incident. How much terror had she felt when she died? Not much, probably. She didn’t fear death. She was more worried about her son. The only thing she desperately feared was losing her family. She didn’t know that her family would lose her first.

            “Oi, Malfoy! Get a move on!” Draco jumped, lost his footing, and toppled - or he would have if the thestral he had been staring at hadn’t stepped forward, catching him on the side of its firm torso.

            He heard a scoff behind him and spun to face his addresser. Oh great, it was Weasley, Potter, and Granger. He instinctively sneered at them, but he restrained his habits and walked away, passing the thestral and heading into the carriage. He didn’t need to hate them anymore; he hadn’t sided with the Dark Lord, so it was useless. Or maybe he could still hate Potter because he was a prat. Well, Draco thought he might be.

It was only when he heard footsteps behind him that he stopped.

            “Why are you following - following me?” he asked the trio behind him.

            “We’re not following you,” said Hermione. “You were staring at the carriage for so long that all the others left. This one’s waiting for you. We’re late, so we need to ride with you.”

            “You’re late?” he asked. “Did you - you really want to ride with me that badly? Well if you insist. But I’ll have - have you know that your feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

            “Malfoy!” said Weasley. “How dare you━”

            Granger elbowed him in the ribcage. “Really, Malfoy, I thought you’d be above all of this childish nonsense by now. You are, after all, almost an adult.”

            Draco just cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know - know what you’re talking about, Granger. I am completely mature.”

            Potter barked a laugh and then blushed when the three others turned to look at him. “Really, Malfoy. If you’re mature, then I’m a unicorn.”

            “I don’t care about your sexual prefer - preferences, Potter. Anyway, we should - should probably go. The feast will start s - soon,” Draco said, effectively cutting off the conversation.

            They packed themselves into the carriage, Potter and Weasley on one side, Granger and Draco on the other. Draco had actually purposefully sat next to Granger, because she was the least annoying of the three.

            The ride was silent until Potter spoke. “Malfoy, why are you wearing a hood?”

            Weasley and Granger shared an apprehensive look. Draco just sighed.

            “Why don’t you just ask - ask Weasel and Granger over here. They know why.”

            Potter looked questioningly at his two best friends. They both shifted awkwardly.

            “Well... um... you’ll see soon anyway,” said Weasley. Draco was surprised that he could stop himself from gossiping about this. Why hadn’t they told?

            Potter looked intently at his friends before returning his gaze to Draco, but Draco just looked at his nails to discourage eye contact.

            The carriage rolled to a stop and Draco hopped out, squeezing past Granger and the two boys and landing on the dirt below.

            “Goodbye,” he said to the thestral.

            “Umm... bye..?” said Potter, obviously thinking he was talking to them.

            “I wasn’t talking to you, P - _Potter._ I was talking to the thestral.”

            “Oh,” said Potter as Draco walked off. He vaguely heard Potter’s last words. “Wait, he can see thestrals?”

 

* * *

 

            As Draco neared the Great Hall, the pit in his stomach grew into a knot and he felt slightly nauseous. He didn’t want people to see the scars. _He_ didn’t want to see the scars. If he just... left his hood up through the feast, wouldn’t it be okay? No. There’s no way Dumbledore and the other Slytherins would let that pass. It seemed he would have to swallow his anxiety and face his fears.

            It was time to take the hood off. He slowly lowered it down and reached up to trace the scar on his cheek - a nervous habit as of late. Soon, he would be facing the horde of ravenous teenagers, hell bent on mocking every movement he made. He had no friends in there. Not anymore.

            He tentatively stepped over the threshold of the Great Hall, pausing as the faces nearest to him turned to him and then looked away, double taking and whipping their heads around to see this new spectacle. Draco looked to his table and purposefully strode over, head held high and eyes forward. He immediately felt the glares of his former friends, so he sat at the far end of the table with a few underclassmen. They looked at him fearfully and he tried to smile to placate their worries, but it came out as more of a grimace and he thought it might have disturbed them more.

            He stole a glance at the Golden Trio, more out of habit than anything else, and he caught Potter gaping at him. He sighed. He understood. It was because of the scars. He turned back to his food, accidentally catching Crabbe’s eye - why was Crabbe looking at him? He hoped it wasn’t for any nefarious reason.

            There were two empty seats next to him that he had no doubt would be filled by the first years once they were sorted. Speaking of the sorting, which was already underway, there seemed to be a dearth in first years this semester. Were parents keeping their children out of school because they were afraid of the Death Eaters? They should know that there was no safer place than Hogwarts in these dark times.

            At least the four with whom he had shared a compartment had sensible parents. They would no doubt thrive here, rather than sit at home, cowering in fear and not learning to control their magic.

            They would, he hoped, be sorted fairly, and not be sorted into the house their parents or siblings were in, as the sorting hat was wont to do.

            “Holmes, Nathaniel!” called McGonagall. Draco’s head snapped up. This was it. This was one of his... his... his _friends_... and now it was time to be sorted.

            The sorting hat sat on his head for a rather long time, obviously conversing with a slightly worried Nathaniel. As they continued their dialogue, Nathaniel’s face grew paler and paler.

            “Well...” said the old hat after the long while. “How about SLYTHERIN?!”

            Slytherin. Well, Draco hadn’t expected that. Draco clapped for the young boy and looked over at the most-likely-to-become-Death-Eaters, who were clapping too. Soon, however, they stopped when they saw a beaming Nathaniel shuffle past them and plop himself down next to Draco.

            “Nathaniel,” said Draco, reluctantly looking over to the glaring gaggle of students. Nathaniel followed his gaze and harrumphed.

            “I’m sitting here,” he said, and that finalized it. There would be no discussion of the repercussions of his actions. “Now watch, my sister’s being sorted!”

            In about thirty seconds, the hat yelled out to the crowd, “GRYFFINDOR!”

            That, Draco had expected. Nathaniel sighed next to him.

            “I just hope she doesn’t stop talking to me,” he said, but just as he finished his sentence, Sylvia peered over to her brother and waved hesitantly. He returned her wave and she smiled brightly, turning and skipping off to her table on the opposite side of the hall.

            Draco patted his companion on the back. “I don’t think - ink you have anything to worry about.”

            They watched the rest of the proceedings with less than their full attention. But they quickly came back to reality when Linda Marcus was called.

            The hat sat on her head for one minute before it laughed and shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

            Draco raised his hands to clap when the word finally caught up to him. Hufflepuff. She was in Hufflepuff? The house full of free spirited dunderheads? Albeit loyal dunderheads. But Linda seemed so smart, why would she go there and not Ravenclaw? Draco lowered his hands for a moment before he remembered what she had been like on the train.

            Sure, she had been smart - incredibly smart and mature for her age, but that wasn’t all there was to her. She had been fiercely protective of people looked down upon and those she liked, and she was open-minded above all, unlike some of her peers. Maybe Hufflepuff was the right choice for her.

            Linda looked over to Draco, and instead of snorting and looking away, as he would have in the past, he inclined his head and raised his hands to clap for her. She grinned and ran over to the table next to Slytherin’s, seating herself down in the seat closest to Draco. She seemed to have taken a liking to him.

            The last of their group, James Rudwell, was sorted into Gryffindor. He didn’t acknowledge any of their group except Sylvia when he went to sit. Draco didn’t mind though. He hadn’t liked that pretentious boy anyway. He reminded him too much of his younger self. Draco sometimes thought about his days from first to fifth year and he wanted to slam his head against a wall to get rid of those memories. Merlin, he had been such an idiot. He remembered his days in the inquisitorial squad and he felt like he was traveling by portkey, feeling the sudden urge to projectile vomit. He groaned and palmed his forehead, his elbow nearly missing the plate when he leaned over it on the table.

            “What’s wrong?” asked Nathaniel, and Draco just sighed.

            “Nothing’s wrong, Nate,” Nathaniel had instructed him to call him that - after all, all of his friends did. “Just remembering some - something.”

            Nate smiled. “Something embarrassing? I always groan and want to hit myself when I remember something embarrassing.”

            “Yes, Nate,” said Draco, “It was something embarr - embarrassing that you might hear about in the future...”

            “What do you mean? I’m sure nobody remembers - I remember my embarrassing stuff, but no one else ever does.”

            Draco sighed. “Nate, I used to be a - a mean person. A really - really mean person.”

            “But - but you’re so nice,” said Nate.

            “I know...” said Draco. “But that’s because - ause I’ve changed. I used to be a really mean person; I - I used to be prejudiced against muggles and muggle - muggleborns, and I’ve said some really mean things. I regret it n - now, but there’s no way to take it back...”

            “You mean you were a,” Nate leaned forward and whispered, “bully?”

            Draco flinched, but he also knew it was the truth. “Yes. You don - on’t have to whisper; everyone already knows. But I - I understand if you don’t want to associate with me after this.”

            After all, he was a cowardly, murderous, pathetic waste of space.

            But Nate shook his head. “I think... I mean, I’ve only known her for a bit, but I think Linda would say everyone deserves a second chance. She’s nice like that. I think I should be more like her.”

            Draco looked into Nate’s eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but he found none, and so he smiled a slanted smile. “Thanks, Nate. I think you’ve got a lot - ot going for yourself without Linda’s influence, too. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

            Nate blushed and mumbled something Draco couldn’t catch before turning to gather food on his plate. Draco frowned. Apparently they had missed Dumbledore’s “speech”. Oh well, he had a much more fulfilling conversation with someone he was glad to call a friend.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Did you _see_ those scars?” they whispered behind his back. “I wonder what happened!”

            The discussers looked at each other. “Maybe it was a dragon!”

            “No, did you see them? They look more like someone branded him with a hot iron!”

            “Damn, poor guy...”

            “I say he deserved it. Death Eater scum!”

            “No one deserves that, you idiot.”

            “I feel sorry for him.”

            “I wonder what else is up with him. Why is he away from his usual annoying posse?”

            “Maybe he decided he was too ‘cool’ for them.”

            “Well he’s bloody cool now, what with those scars and all.”

            “Oi, you!” said a prefect. “The feast ended ten minutes ago! Get up to your dorms!”

            The three speakers looked at each other one last time before running off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not beta'd, so if you find mistakes or have problems, please tell me. Updates will be sporadic as this is just a project so far.


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